


The devil is right there (right there in the details)

by Elisexyz



Series: Looking too closely [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “You can’t invite people over at my place,” Grant protests.“I think I can, considering that I’m saving your life and I’ll have to spend ages cleaning that mess you made by walking around like the stubborn moron you are,” she replies. “Skye came all the way here, and I’d truly appreciate her company.”In which Skye is too curious for her own good, Ward tries to keep variables under control and Jemma doesn't take him seriously - when does she ever?





	The devil is right there (right there in the details)

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes the second part! Jemma is here through most of it, because a) I want her to be friends with Skye; I'm gonna give Skye her own small family, because she deserves all the love; b) Ward definitely needs someone to talk him into being less paranoid.  
>  You can find me as [heytheredeann](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, if you want. Enjoy!

After his encounter with Skye, Grant waits eighteen days before going back to sleep in his apartment – fortunately, his car doesn’t even make it to the top ten most uncomfortable places he’s ever spent the night in – and another two before he gives Jemma a call. He hasn’t caught any sign of Skye anywhere near him, which could either mean that she actually wasn’t involved with SHIELD and he succeeded in scaring her off, no harm done, or that she’s run back to HQ and they are now deciding how to best take him out.

If he were them, he’d go for a single gunshot to the head from a safe distance. It’s not _ideal_ considering that they might want to interrogate him, make sure that he hasn’t started some weird secret agency to take them down or something, but he wouldn’t risk sending in a team of agents that would most likely get their asses handed to them.

At the very least, he wouldn’t go down without taking half of them with him.

But SHIELD has never been much for valuing single agents, so he guesses that the risk would be worth it in the eyes of HQ. When _isn’t_ it worth it for those bastards?

He’s always careful in avoiding cameras as he walks down the street, but since he’s let Skye go – a decision that he’s truly come to regret the more distance there is between him and that smile of hers – he’s been extra-careful. And he still hasn’t let Jemma come anywhere near him. Just to be safe.

She’s being more cooperative than he thought she would – he _did_ mention how her being compromised would make Fitz and all the people she knows a target as well, but Jemma has always been a stubborn one anyway –, even if she made him promise to call if he gets hurt.

Fortunately, he’s mostly been stalking people in the past few days, when he decided to stop surveilling his house 24/7, there’s not much window for injury. Unless he gets made, which rarely happens.

In spite of being focused on his target, he’s always aware of his surroundings. Which is why he doesn’t dismiss the feeling of being watched.

He decides to take a break from his work: he starts walking, his pace slow and relaxed, head automatically turning smoothly as if his attention had been caught by one of the cars on the street whenever he spots a camera. As he turns his head, he catches a glimpse of a thin figure in a coat walking after him.

He remembers seeing that coat earlier that day. He didn’t notice the person’s face, but he’s fairly sure that the body shape is similar.

He stops in front of a shop, pretending to bend over to read the price tag on a pair of shoes. With the corner of his eye, he catches his target heading for the park with his 9-year-old daughter. He won’t risk following them when he’s being tailed.

Cursing himself for letting Skye go – probably for the millionth time since it happened –, he sees the trench-coat guy walking past him, only to stop two shops from where he’s standing. He spots a ponytail, which makes him assume that it’s actually a woman.

He goes back to his walk, moving towards her without letting anything give away that he noticed her presence. He’s debating whether he’s sure enough about her following him and what to do about it, when she turns slightly towards him, immediately turning away when she notices that he’s walking towards her general direction. He decides that that’s proof enough that she’s tailing him.

“Come with me,” he orders in a whisper, pointing his smallest gun at her back. It’s easy to conceal, so people around them don’t seem to notice. He walks her to the closest alley, where there’s only a closed night-club.

She doesn’t struggle or complain, and he doesn’t get a good look at her until they are safely hidden away from people’s prying eyes. When he does look at her though, he barely keeps his jaw from dropping. Skye is staring at him from behind ridiculously big sunglasses, and she’s wearing an hat that’s— ridiculous would be an understatement. It’s like she’s trying to cosplay as Sherlock Holmes or something.

“Hey, Grant, what’s up?” she grins, nervously.

Grant blinks, taking a deep breath. Skye has been following him. Wearing clothes that are anything but inconspicuous. She either truly _isn’t_ a SHIELD agent, or she’s insanely dedicated to her cover, because this is nothing short of stupid.

“I thought I’d said not to show your face again,” he hisses, raising his gun a bit to her head. He has her pinned against the wall, his left hand keeping her shoulder in place.

“I know, but I was curious,” she quickly says.

“To see if I would actually kill you?” he prompts. He’s very, _very_ annoyed at her for tempting fate like that. What the hell does she think she’s doing?

“No, I kinda got that you are trigger-happy,” she replies. Not much seems to have changed since the last time: she’s trembling slightly under his hand, she keeps glancing at the gun and she’s trying to fool him with some bravado. “I just— I’ve looked for _two weeks_ , and I couldn’t find _anything_ on you but a file that said that you died on some super-spy mission. Since you obviously are very much _alive_ , and I always find stuff on _everyone_ —really, I’m very good— _Well_ , I wanted to see what you were up to. I didn’t know you were a stalker too. Is it some spy-stuff?”

Grant blinks, his grip on her shoulder easing a bit as he tries to wrap his head around what she just said: she saw a file that said that he died in combat. She couldn’t have found it anywhere but on SHIELD’s server.

“That’s a SHIELD document,” he says, slowly.

Skye frowns. “What?”

“The one about my death. It’s a SHIELD document.”

She stares at him for a couple of seconds, narrowing her eyes as if she was trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Yeah,” she confirms, slowly. “So?”

“You hacked SHIELD,” he states, without bothering to mask that he’s _impressed_. SHIELD has high security and a system of levels of clearance that’s headache-inducing, not to mention all the restricted files. She _hacked_ her way into SHIELD and she managed to read the official document on his disappearance – of course they would write him as KIA and look for him off-book: makes it easier to put a bullet in his head and get it over with if they want.

“Yep,” Skye confirms, a proud grin on her face. “They should probably update their security system.”

Grant isn’t sure what Skye knows about SHIELD: its existence is not broadcasted on the news, the government knows that they exist but as far as Grant knows they don’t pry into the details of their missions, they are just happy with how they sweep odd events under the rug, and occasionally they are mentioned to the general population as a source for intelligence or something like that. Grant guesses that an hacker would know a bit more.

Skye being able to hack into SHIELD— that kinda changes things. She could really help. He’s tried to keep an eye on SHIELD by reading in between the lines of the news and trying to dig up stuff from the Internet on the few people that he knows by name and who are involved with the higher-ups, but his resources are limited. Skye could give him a huge hand.

That is, if she isn’t actually one of them. He’s still not completely sure, which means that he won’t tell her anything about his revenge plans, not a chance. Yet, at least.

He can do his job just fine without her help, but maybe he could keep her around, use her expertise to make his life easier while working and at the same time try to understand if this is all just a long con. He can’t see why a SHIELD agent wouldn’t just have him arrested or killed at the first occasion, but he won’t risk it.

If she proves to be trustworthy, she’ll be a huge help. She might be just what he needs to make his goal more realistic.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he announces, offering a gentle smile.

She eyes the gun, again. “Does it involve me keeping my brains in my head?” she asks, jokingly.

He puts away the gun and puts his hands up, taking a step back to look as non-threatening as possible. There are still many ways in which he could kill her just using all the objects available around them, but she doesn’t know that.

“You are an hacker, right?” he says, letting his arms fall down at his sides because she looks more relaxed, so he figures that he drove the point home. “I could use someone able to dig up information for me, sometimes.”

“You’d pay me?” she asks.

“5% of my pay,” he offers. It’s low, so he expects her to try and negotiate.

“10%,” she retorts in fact.

“8%.”

“Deal,” she grins. “I’m assuming that being a super-spy pays well.”

“Usually,” he says. At least he can just go home and have a beer instead of spending the whole day tailing people.

 

 

The next time he sees Skye, it’s a week and a half later, at his apartment.

They’ve communicated through phone calls and e-mails – he’s been pretty busy with a couple of time-consuming jobs, so he decided to put a pin on his plan to spend some time around Skye to see if he can spot any red flag –, but she’s come through and he can safely say that she’s been earning her money.

It’s been a while since when Grant has been injured badly enough that it’d warrant a call to Jemma – not that that has ever stopped her from visiting unsolicited to check up on him –, but he wasn’t expecting that fifth guy and his huge knife – which Grant ended up shoving in his throat, in the end, but still.

“ _How_ were you even standing?” Jemma wonders, shooting a deadly glare at him when he has the audacity to roll his eyes. She has the ability to always be more annoyed than worried when he almost gets himself killed: it’s equally amusing and insulting. “I’ve only ever seen this much blood on dead men.”

“Very reassuring,” Grant mumbles, biting back an hiss of pain as she tries to clean up the biggest cut on his collarbone. His shirt is on the floor, a mess of blood and cuts, totally unsalvageable, but maybe he can still save his pants, since they seem intact, as much as bloody.

“I need more towels,” Jemma announces, standing up. “And gauzes. And possibly more _blood_ for you.”

Grant doesn’t bother telling her where to find them: she’s pretty familiar with his apartment by now. “I get it, I get it: I have to be _careful_ ,” he says instead, forcing himself to make it sound like he somewhat takes it seriously. He’s heard that recommendation a thousand times only in the last _month_ , but it’s not like he can completely avoid injury in his line of work.

“Oh, amazing, it almost sounds like you aren’t a reckless moron,” Jemma comments, sarcastically, widening her eyes and opening her mouth to fake surprise. She’s on her way back to him, when the doorbell rings.

Normally, Grant would be quicker to react, but Jemma just starts talking about the dangers of knife fights as she moves to open the door, so he gets distracted by her chatter and it takes a couple of seconds more than normal to realize that not only Jemma is really going to just open the door as if it was a perfectly _safe_ thing to do – while lecturing _him_ because he’s supposedly reckless; the _irony_ –, but his gun is pretty far away.

The door is already opening when he launches on his feet, ignoring the stab of pain he feels at the sharp movement, his fingers closing on the gun just as his eyes focus on Skye, standing on his doorstep with a puzzled look on her face.

“Woah,” Skye lets out, before anyone else can say anything. “That is _a_ _lot_ of blood.”

“Grant has some difficulties grasping the concept of self-preservation,” Jemma scoffs, without turning towards him. “How can I help you?” she adds. That’s her standard polite tone, and Grant can picture the matching smile even if he can’t actually see it.

“I just— I found some stuff, I wanted to bring it in person,” Skye explains, her eyes running back to Grant. He can imagine that for a civilian seeing that much blood probably isn’t an every-day thing. Given how much he moved around before Jemma arrived, there is a mess everywhere, which probably makes the apartment look like he slaughtered a dozen people in the living room.

“E-mails work just fine,” Grant points out.

At that, Jemma seems to connect the dots. “Oh, so _you_ are Skye,” she says. “You are even prettier than I imagined.”

“Oh, thank you,” Skye smiles, obviously flattered. “You told her I was pretty?” she adds then, shooting Grant a teasing look.

He opens his mouth to answer, but Jemma has turned around to see his reaction and she’s not pleased to find him standing. “What do you think you are doing?!” she yells, marching towards him. “Go _sit_ down, you are going to pass out.”

“I was trying to get my _gun_ ,” he protests, even though he lets her guide him towards the couch, since the world around him is shifting dangerously, as Skye quietly gets into the apartment and closes the door behind her. “You can’t just open the door without _checking_.”

“Oh, stop being so paranoid,” she reprimands, as he sits.

Yeah, sure, because it’s _unreasonable_ of him to suspect that behind the door there might be someone ready to put a bullet in between his eyes – or Jemma’s if she isn’t _careful_.

Jemma sits on the couch right next to him, going back to cleaning him up. She turns towards Skye to offer a knowing smile. “He’s a worrier,” she explains. “You learn how to live with it.”

“ _I_ am a worrier,” he scoffs.

“Excuse me if I am not all that happy with you almost _dying_ on me every other week,” she shoots back.

“That’s an exaggeration.”

They get interrupted by Skye’s chuckles. She’s standing a few feet away from the door, looking very amused by their banter.

“Are you brother and sister or something?” she asks. “Or an old married— Wait.” She sobers up a second, her eyes running to Grant with an hint of accusation hidden behind her gaze. “Are you two…?” she prompts, her eyes not leaving Grant, who is pretty damn offended at the implication.

“Oh, jeez, no,” Jemma scoffs. “We are not _together_ , we’re friends.”

“I am not a _cheater_ ,” Grant remarks, glaring at Skye, who throws her hands up without bothering to hide her relief all that much.

“My bad,” she says. “You definitely bicker like a couple though.”

“I prefer the siblings theory,” Jemma comments, getting ready to stitch him up. Grant notices that Skye adverts her eyes: again, either very dedicated to her cover, or an unusually squeamish field agent, or she’s truly a civilian. “It allows me to pretend that I’m not putting up with him by choice,” Jemma adds.

“Cute,” Grant deadpans, shooting her a narrowed glance.

She smiles brightly in return and he rolls his eyes, adverting his gaze back on Skye: she’s glancing over the blood splashed everywhere around the apartment. Grant doesn’t even want to _think_ about cleaning it up. He’s actually injured enough that Jemma will probably at least offer to help out.

“I’ll admit, this looks like an horror movie setting,” Skye comments, swallowing.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s an _anomaly_ ,” Jemma replies, sarcastically. “You _won’t_ have to get used to it, because it’s definitely _not_ the norm. Right, Grant?”

“It actually isn’t,” he states. “Usually the blood isn’t mine,” he adds, grinning smugly in Skye’s direction.

“ _That’s_ reassuring,” Skye comments, but she doesn’t look too bothered by the implication. He had kinda got that her sense of self-preservation isn’t all that developed.

“He’s actually all soft on the inside,” Jemma assures. “Skye, how would you like to have lunch with us?” she adds then.

“You can’t invite people over at my place,” Grant protests.

“I think I can, considering that I’m saving your life _and_ I’ll have to spend ages cleaning that mess you made by walking around like the stubborn moron you are,” she replies. “Skye came all the way here, and I’d truly appreciate her company.”

Grant lets out a defeated sigh. He did plan on getting to know Skye better, after all. He would have preferred to be in a more decent shape, just to be ready in case it turns out that it’s a big con and she’s a trained agent, but he’ll have to manage. Talking Jemma down would be a waste of time _and_ of energy that he doesn’t even _have_ at the moment.

“Great,” Jemma rejoices, taking his non-verbal answer as a yes. “What do you say?” she asks then, turning towards Skye.

She seems equally amused and thrilled. “Why not,” she says. “Last time I was here I had some _great_ cereals.”

Jemma frowns. “You offered her _breakfast_?” she asks, barely holding back a disbelieving laugh. Grant isn’t sure if it’d be better to highlight that she actually kind of _demanded_ it, despite being the one held at gunpoint in the situation, or to just let it slide.

This is gonna be a nightmare.

 

 

As it turns out, Skye and Jemma hit off very easily.

Jemma orders him to rest a little, especially considering that he refused to take any medication with a stranger in the house – he didn’t voice the reason why, but he knows she got it, because she shook her head with disapproval and commented: “You are a paranoid idiot.” – and she helped him to his bedroom, landing him a support that he could have done without but that made things a hell of a lot easier.

He was pretty reluctant about leaving her alone with Skye, even if he’s just in a different room, but Jemma shrugged his concern off and ordered him to just relax, because ‘she seems like a good person’. The point of deceit is exactly _that_ , but he let it slide.

“And you did teach me how to shoot,” she added. That’s actually a bit reassuring, summed with the knowledge that she knows where he hides his spare gun.

From his position on the bed – which is half-sitting, his back resting against a ridiculous amount of pillows that Jemma actually brought herself the first time she’d come over to help him with an injury; “I figured you were _dying_ if you needed an house visit,” she’d explained when he asked about it. “I thought you would need to be comfortable.” – he could see them walking around the living room. Skye ended up helping with the blood, Grant doesn’t know if out of solidarity for Jemma or because she is in some unhealthy pursuit of adventure that pushes to do stuff like— well, tailing a guy who threatened to shoot her in the face if he ever saw her again, for example.

He feels awfully tired, and he’s very glad that he refused the painkillers because the only thing keeping him awake, besides plain stubbornness, is the fact that he’s hurting all over. Which he’d better not mention to Jemma, or she’s going to forget all about her ethics and inject him against his will.

Keeping watch on Skye and Jemma as they clean up his apartment is boring as hell, considering that there isn’t _much_ to observe right now, besides the fact that those two seem to be hitting off all too well for his tastes, Skye seems to be having the time of her life and Jemma’s guard is totally down at the moment.

He resolves to pick up a book and keep his ears open, throwing a glance their way every once in a while.

A part of him keeps expecting to raise his eyes to find Skye holding Jemma at gunpoint, which is— not a pleasant thought. As much as he loves it when he can say ‘I told you so’, and as much as he’s pretty sure that he could hold his own against another agent even in this shape, Jemma is one of those few people that he truly doesn’t appreciate having in the line of fire.

Which is a pain in the ass, because she has no training and zero survival instincts. No wonder she and Skye get along.

“Hey, Super Spy,” Skye calls, peeking in his room. Grant can see a splash of blood on her jeans, which looks incredibly out of place on her. “What would you like for lunch?”

“Anything goes,” he answers, putting down his book and moving to get up. Kitchen means knives, and Skye is a stranger, which means that he won’t be on the other side of the house as she has access to them. He’s had enough of surprises involving knives for today, thank you very much.

“Woah, woah,” she protests, stepping in as he sits up. “Are you supposed to do that?”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not dead.”

“No, just half-way there,” she mumbles. She takes another step forward. “Let me help, at least.”

He stares at her for a few seconds. “I can do it on my own,” he points out, and it’s not even a lie. The support wouldn’t be bad, but he hasn’t even patted her down for concealed weapons, what if she’s hiding a knife? He’s _not_ in the mood for another stab – sometimes he allows himself to admit that he _is_ a bit paranoid.

“Should I ask for Jemma’s opinion?” Skye grins, pointing at the door. Low blow.

He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Fine,” he agrees. There’s no need to involve Jemma and be carried out anyway. Skye looks pretty smug.

To her credit, she is a good walking stick. She’s careful not to cause him any more pain that necessary, she adjusts to his pacing _and_ she doesn’t shower him with worried looks every two seconds like he’s about to fall on his face.

The closeness also gives him an excuse to make sure that there aren’t any knives, at least around her waist or hidden in her sleeves. Good.

“Oh, so good to see that you are being friendly,” Jemma comments, as they enter the kitchen. “Why did you join us?” she adds.

Grant grins, the way he does when he doesn’t want to be openly sarcastic but he is not trying to look too sincere either. “To enjoy the company, of course.”

Jemma rolls her eyes at him, and he’s pretty sure that she knows why he’s there. As proven by the fact that when Skye offers to slice the bread Jemma, very theatrically, discourages her: “Oh, no, no, let me— that big, mean knife, it’s _so_ dangerous—”

It’s not even that she’s _clueless_ , she just— hopes. Jemma is very big on hope, which ties to her faith in humanity, which clashes with Grant’s compulsive need to make sure that no one around him is about to stab him in the back. Grant rather enjoys the contrast, when it doesn’t risk giving him an aneurysm.

 

 

“So, Skye,” Jemma begins, conversationally. “You mentioned you live in your van?”

Grant blinks, turning towards Skye. That is a new one. Skye had already admitted to not being really on vacation, but Grant had just assumed that meant that she lived around there somewhere. Assuming is never a good idea.

“Yes,” she replies, cheerfully. “I love it. Lots of freedom, I can visit many places— it’s great.”

“That why you con people for a living?” Grant asks, and he really didn’t mean it to be judgemental, because let’s face it, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to moral high grounds, but he supposes it didn’t sound too nice, judging by Jemma’s glare.

Skye doesn’t seem to be too offended, though. “I’m an orphan, I’ve been living on my own since when I was eighteen,” she shrugs. She says it like it’s no big deal, but Grant can sense that it _is_. He mentally adds a lot of ramifications originating from that particular piece of information, even if merely _considering_ using a messed-up kid’s need for belonging makes him feel a bit sick, given where he comes from himself. “The only thing I’m a natural at is hacking, and the people that pay you for that kind of stuff usually aren’t recommendable. If they are, they don’t go to an eighteen-year-old for it.”

“I’d love to see you in action someday,” Jemma comments. “I don’t know all that much when it comes to computers, it’d be interesting to learn something new.”

Skye seems to appreciate the idea and her interest. She then proceeds to asking about Jemma’s work, which leads to a lot of science bubble that Grant is fairly sure neither him nor Skye understood for the most part, but Skye seems to be genuinely interested in understanding, judging by how she tries to ask for a translation from science to English every now and then. Grant thinks that she likes a Jemma, and he’s not sure if it’s a good thing.

“This is _so_ nice,” Skye declares, half-way through their lunch. “It’s been ages since when I’ve had lunch at home with someone, thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Jemma smiles. Grant adds a tick under his ‘needy and lonely’ box. “You are a lovely guest. Isn’t she, Grant?”

“She’s not big on lectures at least,” he pokes at her, and Jemma’s disapproving grimace is totally worth it.

“If you learnt how to take care of yourself, I wouldn’t _need_ to lecture you,” she comments. She turns towards Skye. “See what I have to deal with? He’s insufferable.”

Skye seems amused. “At least he’s pretty,” she comments.

Jemma turns towards him, pretending to stare intently for a few seconds. “That he is,” she finally agrees.

“Very flattering,” Grant comments, rolling his eyes theatrically.

He has to admit that, risk assessment aside, it’s been a nice lunch. If Skye’s playing a character, she’s damn good at it, because she didn’t slip up _once_ , she looked absolutely relaxed the whole time, she made no move that reminded him of a trained agent. Zero. By all accounts, she seems like a civilian, which made it easy to forget for a few moments that he should be on alert and just enjoy the company.

He likes having Jemma over, and even if _two_ cheerful people in his household for more than a few hours would probably end up driving him crazy, having them there for lunch is— nice.

 

 

Jemma ends up staying a little more than Skye, to check on his bandages and make sure that he knows what to do to not end up with an infection – Grant has long since given up on trying to tell her that he’s used to the aftermath of getting injured.

“So, was it so bad?” she prompts, not even five minutes after Skye has left.

Grant sighs. “No,” he admits. “But she’s still a risk.”

Jemma huffs. “I don’t remember you vetting me this thoroughly when we met.”

“Not that you _know_ of,” he retorts. “And you didn’t start out by _conning_ me.” Successfully, he might add. Which is the most worrying part.

“To be fair, _you_ started out by threatening to kill her,” Jemma points out.

“ _After_ she conned me.” He pauses. “And I’m already regretting _not_ doing it, because it doesn’t look like she has received any training whatsoever and it’s driving me _crazy_.”

Jemma looks at him like he’s the dumbest person she’s ever met, which, fair, from _her_ he can accept it. Some days he’s sure that they are all goldfish in her eyes. “That’s because you keep looking for evidence that she’s a spy when there might in fact be _none_.”

“At the very least she’s a con-woman,” he replies. “Still untrustworthy.”

“ _You_ are a spy.”

“When have you ever heard me say that I am trustworthy?”

Jemma huffs again, taking out a clean bandage. “Listen, this is like an experiment,” she explains. “You can’t just stick to your hypothesis and— and try to _bend_ the evidence, the data, in your favour, alright? You have to let the facts speak for themselves.”

Grant raises his eyebrows. “That sounds like a great way to get yourself killed, Jemma,” he comments. “In _my_ area of expertise, guilty until proven innocent works a whole lot better.”

She looks pretty sceptical, which doesn’t surprise him one bit. “Well, so far you haven’t found _anything_ that points to her being guilty though, have you?”

Touché. “Give me some time,” is the only thing that he can say.

 

 

“Yes, it’s healing up nicely,” Grant assures, laying out the pieces of his rifle on the table so that he can clean it. Jemma has called to check up on him, which he had been expecting and he’s not going to complain about, especially considering that she and Skye cleaned up half of his apartment a few days prior.

“ _That’s very good to hear_ ,” Jemma comments, satisfied. “ _Oh, Skye says hi!_ ” she adds, cheerfully, which stops Grant dead on his tracks.

“Skye’s there?” he asks, after a few seconds. She can’t be serious.

“ _Oh, yes, we had lunch_ ,” Jemma informs him, like it’s no big deal. He’d noticed how they’d hit off, but he had kind of assumed that Jemma would be responsible enough to _wait_ a little before opening her house doors to a potentially dangerous stranger, or at least that she would _inform_ him so that he could keep an eye on things.

Both options being, now that he thinks about it, little more than wishful thinking. Why does he keep making assumptions exactly?

“ _She’s quite lovely_ ,” Jemma adds.

Grant rubs his face with both hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Dammit, Jemma,” he mumbles. “She could be a _spy_ ,” he adds, more forcefully.

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes. “ _Please. You are being paranoid_ ,” she comments. “ _You’ve told me yourself that she doesn’t seem to have received any training_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he hisses. “Key-word there is ‘ _seem’_.”

“ _You have spent more than enough time with her for me to be confident that if she_ was _trying to play us, you would have noticed it_.” The faith in his abilities is flattering, but it’s also _so_ irresponsible. How ironic is it that this is the same woman that showers him of lectures on being too reckless? “ _She’s lonely and I happen to like her very much_ ,” Jemma goes on, because of course she’d take pity on the poor little orphan and try to befriend her. For a moment, he wonders if Skye did her research on Jemma, having somehow found out about her, and she adjusted her cover accordingly. That’s what _he_ would do. “ _So we are going to be friends, quit worrying senselessly_.”

“It’s not _senseless_ ,” he protests. “I’m a spy, I know how we operate. She’d get you to trust her, and when you are least—”

“ _Have some faith for once, alright?”_ she cuts him off. “ _You let her live, trust that you made the right decision and trust that I can look after myself. I’m no secret agent but I’m not helpless, you know it_.”

He sighs. “I do know that.” It doesn’t mean that he’s not going to keep a closer eye on both Jemma and Skye from now on.

“ _Good_ ,” she comments. “ _If you promise to behave and not bug my house, you can take me shooting and make sure that I still know how to take aim. How does that sound?”_ Her tone has softened considerably, and it steals a small smile out of Grant.

“Sounds great,” he replies.

Bugging her house does not sound like a bad idea either, though.


End file.
